


You Look Really Cute When You're Coughing Up A Lung

by thekindyousave



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekindyousave/pseuds/thekindyousave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://turtletotem.tumblr.com/post/121393741711/ohsebs-ohsebs-ohsebs-my-nurse-just-came">this tumblr post</a></p><p>Steve is hospitalized and Bucky is one of the nurses on his floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_This is fucking ridiculous_ , Steve thinks as he glares at the hospital room ceiling, as if that would make his lungs not fuck up anymore.

Sam is sitting by the bed, leaning back on his chair with a book cracked open on his lap and a smug smile on his face because he told Steve that he'd end up in the hospital again if he tried to be his _hotheaded, dumb, punk ass self_. That calms Steve somewhat, because if his well being was really compromised, Sam would be fussing over him like the god forsaken mother hen he is.

 

Steve knows the hospital inside out: he knows how to kick the vending machine just right when his snacks get stuck, he knows to avoid the third stall in the first floor lavatory because whenever you flush the toilet makes weird satanic noises; he knows all the security guards by name, and he gets along with the nurses, specially with good ol' Vivian, who used to work with his mother and always gives him that look when she sees him in the ER, that look that says _you rotten, misbehaving boy_ but that is tinged with warm, motherly love.

The nurses on this floor are a whole other story. He doesn't know most of the names because the lot of them just like to stand at the edge of his bed and whisper between each other and treat him like a child, when he's twenty-fucking-four and you can explain to him what's going on, thank you very much.

Natasha, the head nurse, is Heaven (or Hell, maybe) personified. Steve adores her, not only because she’s so breath-takingly gorgeous Steve can feel himself shrink whenever she walks into his room, but because of her sharp mind, her quick wit, and the way she doesn't baby him with anything, ever, like the rest of the staff does. She looks straight into his eyes which, if he is completely honest, it freaks him out after a while, but she gets to the point and plays by the facts. She has that no-nonsense kind of personality trait that Steve seems to find in almost everyone who surrounds him in his day-to-day life.

 

All in all, Steve's hospital stay could be much worse, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get to complain about it. Peggy runs in on the third day, not a single hair out of place but with a face that says she hasn't gotten much sleep in the past few days. After a precise slap on the back of his head for being _such a reckless moron, Steven, for_ heaven's _sake. One would think after a while you'd grow some kind of self preservation instinct_ she sits with him all afternoon, even when he can clearly see her phone will not stop ringing. He forces her to go after 6, when visiting hours are over, promising her he'll take care of himself and he'll answer quickly whenever she gets a chance to call him from Budapest, or Bucharest, or wherever the fuck her job is taking her now.

 

It’s after ten and Steve is buried in an actual pile of pillows when someone walks into the room. A nurse, clearly, seeing he wouldn't be getting any visits at this time, but he stays still and closes his eyes for good measure thinking maybe he can trick her into going away.

Turns out it isn't a _her_ after all.

"Hey, buddy, it's time to check your vitals." The voice is rough and low, clearly not someone Steve recognizes, but that doesn't stop him from being a little shit.

As if anything could ever really stop him.

"Fight me." He grumbles, voice muffled by the pillows, but he’s sure the man heard him when he feels his pillows lift and he’s faced with the most beautiful man he's ever seen.

"Maybe later," the nurse replies with a fond smile on his lips, as if he hasn't just uncovered a pre-pneumoniac, greasy-haired, pint-sized Steve with drool dried on the corner of his mouth.

 

There aren't many male nurses in this particular hospital, the majority of them centralized in the emergency room and one or two in the ICU, and Steve had no idea there was one on this floor. 

And he’s pretty sure he would’ve remembered this face.

The light is dim, and Steve is kind of disoriented from being buried under pillows for hours, but he is sure his eyes are blue, his hair is long, as his smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

And Steve still has drool on the corner of his mouth. Fantastic.

The man is efficient, doing everything in quick motions, not even giving Steve a second to try to wing some sort of class D, sleepy flirting. 

“Well, everything looks good, Steve. You get some sleep, okay?”

Steve barely manages to mutter a “thanks” as the man walks out, mourning the fact that he couldn’t even read the nurse’s tag to find out his name. 

 

Steve doesn’t, to put it nicely, quite know the meaning of self preservation. His friends would tell you he’s a reckless jerk, always jumping fists first into every situation without even thinking about it for a split second, but that would be an utter lie.

It probably takes him less than that.

Having lived all his life scrawny and sickly, with an attitude that was fit for a much bigger body, never did Steve any favors. Always snappy and true to who he is, he’s had some issues with the majority of the kids growing up. That made him, besides argumentative and quick to stand up for what he believes in, also prompt to assume the worst from people.

Sam has a calming nature that made Steve trust him almost immediately and Peggy is a force to be reckoned and didn’t take any of his shit, but Steve knows he has a way of pushing people away, being as hot-headed as he is.

That is exactly why, after that Dude Nurse Man walks in the next morning, asking him to move his pillows again, he can’t help it. His go-to response is grumbling “fight me” again, because that seems to be the only thing his brain deems possible to do.

Another thing he can do, apparently, is have a coughing fit right when he is trying to figure out how to say something clever and maybe somewhat salvage the situation. The nurse wordlessly helps him sit up and once his lungs aren’t rattling, he smiles sympathetically at him and Steve is suddenly unable to breathe again, but for a very different reason.

“See? Can’t fight you. You’d probably beat my ass.”

Steve has never been much of a flirt. Peggy has teased him about it, how he turns into a sputtering mess in front of someone he finds attractive and how he always manages, stellarly so, to put his foot in his mouth. So it is kind of a shock, really, that Steve can’t manage any words, given how easy it is for him to open his mouth and make a fool out of himself on a daily basis. 

Maybe it’s the nurse’s efficiency while doing his job, how he seems to flow seamlessly from one thing to the other, or how whenever he catches Steve staring he shoots him a pleasant smile. A smile Steve would very much like to see again. Preferably directed at him from his bed under the morning light but hey, he isn’t picky.

Dude Nurse Man gives him one more beautiful smile before he turns to open the door, nearly crashing onto Sam. They both manage to put their hands on each other, Sam holding the nurse by the arms, and the nurse holding him by the shoulders. They laugh awkwardly, say sorry once or twice, and Sam walks in the room, slightly confused. 

“I haven’t seen that dude around before.”

“Yeah, uh, he’s been around. Checking my vitals.” Steve knows his attempt at nonchalance is backfiring, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. 

“Bucky.”

“Huh?”

“That’s his name. I’m assuming you didn’t ask him? At least, that’s what his nametag read.” 

Sam is such a good friend. Sam is the coolest of the dudes. Sam has given Steve the chance to put a name to that unbelievable face.

Bucky.

It's probably the most ridiculous name Steve had ever heard, but it fits. Nurse Bucky. It's nice.

 

Bucky holds his breath from the moment he leaves the room until he reaches the nursing station. Natasha’s there, as she always seems to be in the worst moments, filing some paperwork. Bucky takes a deep breath and tries to urge his tongue to move.

"That guy is back. The buff dude that's always with Rogers. Thought you'd wanna know." Because oh, Bucky has seen the way Natasha stares at the guy's ass when he walks away, and he thinks that maybe he has the upper hand, that maybe at least once in the five years that he's known the redhead he can get the upper hand, but as she looks up from her paperwork, an eyebrow raised and a slight curl to his lips, he knows he’s doomed.

Doomed and then some.

"Oh, he's 'Rogers' now?" Bucky can practically see the air quotes. "You were sighing, looking at his room door about ten minutes ago. I thought you were going to start writing 'Stevie' and 'Mr. James Rogers' in your notebook surrounded by hearts." 

Bucky shoots her the dirtiest look he can muster while knowing she’s very much right. He turns away on his heel and rests his back against the counter, his arms crossed in a very adult-like fashion.

"Ask him out."

"He's our patient."

"Then wait until he's out of the hospital and then ask him out."

"What, you suggest I follow him after he leaves and knock on his door with a bouquet of roses and ask him to be mine?"

"Do you live in a Nicholas Sparks novel? You're 26, you're a grown man and you can ask a guy out. Don't be a child, James."

"I'm not a child. You're a child."

Nat stands up and gives him a very pointed look as she moves away to do her rounds.

 _Okay,_ Bucky thought. _Nat 3562715, Bucky 0._

 

Bucky is a coward. Always has, is, and will be, for all eternity, and so on. Amen. Whatever.

That’s why it’s been fifteen minutes since he’s been standing in front of Steve’s room door, trying to find the courage in him to go in, check his vitals, make a little joke or two, ask him out to dinner.

He used to be real charming. Hell, if he walked into a bar he’s pretty sure he could charm the pants off a lot of people there, but not in here. Not with this tiny, sickly dude; this dude that has the brightest eyes and a voice way too low for his body, this dude that is so amazing that has prompted his friends to never leave his side, this dude that has more fight in him that anyone in Bucky’s life, except maybe Natasha.

_Natasha._

Bucky skids to a halt in front of the nurse’s station and he doesn’t even get to open his mouth before Natasha’s read his mind.

“No.”

“Please.”

“You’re a grown man, James. We’ve had this conversation. Go in, ask him out. Live a little.”

“What if he says no?”

Natasha levels him with a glare that very pointedly says _why would he say no?_ , but she gets off her seat anyway.

“I’ll do it. If,” She adds, before Bucky can start his victory dance inside his head, “You promise you’ll make a move before he leaves.”

“But he’s scheduled to be released tomorrow afternoon.”

“Exactly,” She answers, walking backwards to Steve’s room with a smug look on her face, “exactly.”

 

Steve looks up expectantly and his throat constricts a little when instead of seeing brown hair pulled into a messy bun, he sees red curls perfectly in place. It doesn’t help that Natasha’s resting face makes her look like she always know something that you don’t. Or maybe, she actually does know something.

That doesn’t really make Steve any less grumpy.

She quickly explains that he’s set to be released tomorrow, and all the precautions that he should take once he’s home. If she has a bite to her words that make it seem like she’s threatening him to be on his best behavior, she doesn’t make a point of it. Maybe Steve is just imagining it. 

Once she’s gone, Steve allows himself a heavy sigh and a full on pout. If he’s being released in the morning, that means this was the last check out he’ll get. If he’s leaving in the morning, it means he won’t see Bucky again.

Unless he goes and breaks his collarbone again, but hey, he won’t go to that extent to see the guy. Maybe it will just happen, like most things in his life.

He turns on his side and with another heavy sigh he closes his eyes. Sam will probably be coming early to get him and there’s really no need for him to be looking like a zombie just because his romantic life is a complete bust.

 

It’s now 1:15 and Bucky hasn’t made a move.  
He goes to the door.  
He realizes Steve is most likely sleeping and talking to him won’t be a good idea.  
He lets it go.

 

It’s 2:38 and Bucky is surprised he managed to stay away for this long.  
In his hand he holds a piece of paper that literally has “Call me xx” and his phone number written on it.  
Bucky stares at it.  
He dumps it in the trash and lets it go.

 

It’s 4.26 and it’s the third time in twenty minutes Bucky has taken a deep breath and gotten up from his seat only to walk two steps and come back around.  
Natasha stares at him, silently, with an amused smile on her lips.  
It really is an easy night, work wise.  
He lets it go.

 

It’s only about half an hour before Bucky’s shift ends that he gets the idea. It’s pretty simple, really. Cute, even. He really hopes Steve doesn’t take him for a dork.  
Which he is, but he’d rather that not be the guy’s first impression of him.

He salutes Nat as she comes out of the bathroom on his way down to the street, bypassing the cafeteria for the Starbucks on the corner. He’s not even sure what Steve drinks, but there’s no way in hell he’s gonna get him that brown slush the hospital cafeteria calls coffee.

He makes it back to the floor in a few minutes, swooping by the nurses’ station to get a pen and scribble down the side, checking once or twice to make sure everything is legible. Then a few minutes before six, he tiptoes into the room, placing the cup on the bedside table, allowing himself a few seconds to admire how cute Steve looks when he sleeps before mentally calling himself a creep and sliding out.

He goes home, a spring in his step, unable to smile to himself and think _yes, Bucky, way to go, man._

Sam walks into his room, managing to make as much noise as it’s humanly possible. Steve groans out, his arm flying up to cover his face, hating the fact that his best friend also happens to be a fucking morning person.

“Good morning, sunshine. You still in bed? Your mama would kill me if she saw how much I let you sleep.” Sam drops his bag on the chair and tilts his head. “Wait, you got coffee already?”

Steve frowns and lifts his arm from his face, blinking away the stars in his eyes. He turns his head to the bedside table to see a to-go cup of coffee, and written very clearly on the side the words “Fight me?” next to a phone number.

“Oh,” Steve says, and he can’t help the smile that breaks open on his face. “I guess I did.”


	2. It's Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finally finds the courage to call Bucky.

_“Hi. It’s-- uh-- it’s Steve.”_

 

It’s been three days since Steve was released from the hospital, and Bucky is still checking his phone five times per hour. He’s trying to tone it down, really, trying not to be stupidly excited whenever he gets a call or a text, and really trying not to feel down when he realizes that no, it isn’t Steve, and yes, he hasn’t reached out to him yet.

Was Bucky too forward? Was Bucky super cheesy and made Steve think that he was a dork (which he is) and that he liked him too much (which he does) and that he wasn’t really worth his time (which he hopes he isn’t)?

He’s his usual charming and chirp self around patients, but whenever he reaches the nurses’ station he’s dragging his feet and pouting like a child. The fact that Nat is actually being sympathetic and not telling him to quit it really shows how pathetic he is.

But he can’t stop checking.

 

 

It’s fucking ironic, really, that when it actually happens, he nearly misses it.

He’s been home for a few minutes, and after feeding Maia, the big, grey fluffy cat that’s technically his but who likes Natasha better, he just wants to jump in the shower to clean off the scent of a twelve hour shift off of himself. He’s dropped his boxers and is shamelessly singing some Bee Gees tune when he hears his phone go off, on the coffee table where he’d left it after walking in. He stares down at his very naked body, aching for a hot shower, and is about to jump in, caller be damned, before he gets a weird churning feeling in his stomach and he turns and runs to get it. If it’s his mom and he doesn’t pick up, he’ll have her at his doorstep in ten minutes (even if she lives three states away) banging on his door and letting all his neighbors know what an _ungrateful child you are, James Buchanan, can’t you pick up when your mother calls you? You could be_  dead _for all I know!_.

So yeah, he runs to get it. He doesn’t even look at the screen before swiping it, deciding against sitting his naked ass anywhere. “Yeah?”

 

“Hi. It’s-- uh-- it’s Steve.”

 

It’s Steve.

Steve.

Tiny adorable Steve.

 

“Oh-- hi! Hi.”

Bucky Barnes, charmer extraordinaire, everybody.

“Hey. You, uh, you left me your number?”

“Yeah, I was hoping you’d call.” _Yeah, because for what other reason you could’ve given him your number, asshat? To say ‘hey, look, it ends in 758, isn’t that cool?’_

“Yeah, I figured.” There’s a sharp teasing tone to his words, and Bucky’s pretty show Steve’s grinning. He can’t help but to, himself.

“So, how’re you feeling?” Bucky winces, ashamed at his own attempt at small talk, but hey, the guy was just in the hospital, it’s just polite.

“Well, I can breathe on my own without choking every few minutes. That’s an improvement, isn’t it?”

Oh, yeah, Bucky thinks. Steve is a good one. Definitely a good one.

“I guess you should call it that.”

“Well, I believe I should thank you for taking care of me. With, uh, coffee? A coffee date, yeah.”

“Thought you wanted to fight me.”

“Well, uh, maybe another time?”  
  


And with that, Bucky is doing his happy dance. Butt naked. In his living room. Too excited to care.

They decide on the time and place -- it so happens they’re both familiar with a cozy little place a few blocks away from the hospital. It’s tiny, warm, and the owners tend to the customers and know them by name -- it seems like the perfect place for a first date.

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s a date. An actual date with a cute guy.

Bucky starts hyperventilating.

 

 

Steve places his phone on the coffee table and takes three deep breaths, because nothing says calm and composed like an asthma attack. It took several hours of convincing (Sam being his easy going, understanding self while Peggy bluntly told him to _make the damned call, Steven, he left you his number for a reason , did he not?_   over Skype) before he managed to punch in the numbers. He expected anything from 'Sorry, the cup of coffee was meant from someone else' to 'you have 24 hours to wire three million dollars into this account.'

Once his heartbeat is down to normal once more, he starts going through his wardrobe in his mind, picking out possible outfits before he realizes it’s three days away, and he could really try to be chill for once.

 

 

“No way.”

“C’mon, man. Just pick. Blue or grey.”

“I am not about to tell you which pants make your ass look better! No, wait, grey. Definitely grey.”

In Bucky’s list of things to do on his day off, having Clint stare at his ass for the better part of an hour to help him decide which pants to wear to the date wasn’t on it. The date itself, however, very much was.

Bucky’s apartment was well within walking distance of the coffee shop, but it was mid-may and he was not about to risk sweating through his shirt, so he took the subway for only two stops. He didn’t calculate the time that would save him, though, so he arrives twenty minutes early. Hyperventilating once more. 

He starts to breathe easily once he realizes Steve isn't there yet (why would he be) and that the place is pretty empty, which means he can pick his favorite table by the window, making sure to sit facing the door so that when Steve comes in he can see him clearly. And also, so that every time the door dings he can look up like an excited puppy to see if the blond has finally made it.

 

 

Steve stops in front of the door, swiping his bangs to the side as he does whenever he’s nervous. And he is, very nervous indeed. _You can do this. You can go in, be charming, make him like you. He’s not a serial killer. It’s going to be fine._  His feet make it past the threshold, his eyes immediately scanning the room until he sees him and _shit, was he really this hot before? Oh god, he sees you. He’s smiling. Why are you not moving? You should’ve worn the white t-shirt. Is wearing black to a first date a bad omen? Oh, shit, he’s standing up, go, go, go!_  

 

 

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding when Steve finally starts walking towards him. He stood motionless for so long, he thought the guy was gonna flee, but he’s now standing in front of him, and Bucky really needs to get his head out of his ass. His tongue feels like it’s made of cotton as he tries to speak, and he hopes to all hell he doesn’t sound stupid and/or creepy as he says “You’re early.” He doesn’t know what possessed him to stay standing until the other man sat down but he did, and since he was sure his brain was now completely disconnected from the rest of his body he just decided to wing it.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, a sheepish smile on his face. “I didn’t want to be late. You were here before me, though.”

“Guess I didn’t want to be late, either.”

 

 

It’s ten minutes later and they’re in the same position, but with coffee mugs the size of their heads in front of them. It’s stupid, really, the way Bucky can’t stop staring, and he’s glad that Steve doesn’t seem put off by it. If anything, he blushes a little (Bucky has heard his stare can be quite intense) but he doesn’t seem to mind. They talk about everything and nothing at the same time -- Bucky is genuinely surprised how easily words come out of his mouth. He’s a social guy, sure, and he’s a talker, but he feels comfortable, almost as if he knew Steve from a long time ago and they happened to meet again by chance. It’s easy, freeing. He can’t really remember why he was so nervous.

That is, of course, until Steve snorts out a laugh, his head tilting back slightly and his eyes twinkling with mirth. Then, he remembers. It’s because Steve is the most beautiful thing he ever set eyes on, and plain ol’ Bucky is always ready to fuck everything up. He tries his best to keep his mind away from those thoughts, to focus on how Steve cocks his head to the side as he listens to him while he told a story, or how his fingertips drum rhythmically on the side of the mug when he’s trying to remember something. On how, for some magical reason, he seems to find Bucky funny, and although he’s not always cracking up as he did a few minutes ago, he does smile quite often, and it always, always reaches his eyes.

He gets so lost in time that he doesn’t realize it’s already dark out until Steve mentions it. He startles, looks out and then smiles apologetically at the blond, as if it was somehow all his fault. “I kept you here too long.”

“Does it seem like I mind?”

 

 

Steve doesn’t exactly know what is happening. He knows it’s a date, of course: he specified it himself when they made the plans on the phone, but somehow --and this was probably coming from the dark, self-conscious part of his brain -- he didn’t expect Bucky to stay for so long. He wanted him to, oh _God_ , how he wanted him to, but he was also sure that after an hour Bucky would have to go, and maybe he would call, but most likely wouldn’t.

Now, four and a half hours into the date, with both mugs empty and cold, with a plate now empty except for a few cookie crumbs, and with the way Bucky had managed to inch himself closer and closer over the table he figures that maybe, just maybe, the feelings are mutual.

It’s in a second of awareness that he realizes it’s now dark out. He mentions it to the other male who in turn visibly jolts, and stares out the window with a look so adorable it should be forbidden. Steve doesn’t understand how this man can have so many different sides of him, each one as earnest as the last. He can be stupidly hot (the way his thighs looked in those pants) or cuter than a kitten; funny, smart, inspired -- Steve doesn’t quite grasp how on Earth a man like this is still single.

The look Bucky shoots him when he looks back at him makes him laugh internally. He honestly looks apologetic, as if Steve was a busy man, and had to make every second of his day count. As if Steve wouldn’t have been on his couch half naked all day long if it weren’t for this date.

He stands up and, after a quick dismissal of Bucky’s protest, he goes to the counter and pays for everything. He had asked him out, after all; it had been his move, and it was the way to pay him back. “You can pay the next time,” he says, clearly without thinking, as he comes back to the table, and Bucky’s demeanor completely changes. He rests an elbow on the table his eyebrows arched as he takes Steve in, clearly trying not to laugh. “Oh, is there gonna be a next time?”

“Isn’t there?” Steve shoots back as quickly as possible, trying to stand his ground and exert a level of confidence he most definitely does not possess.

“Oh, I think so.”

Steve tries very hard not to faint as, when they walk out of the store, Bucky’s fingers, almost by chance, find his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I am the worst in the world  
> It literally took me more than a year to make a follow up to the story like some people had suggested, but it's heeeere.  
> I've split it into two parts, but I might keep writing in this universe because these dorks are adorable. Also I know this is short as hell so I'll try my best to get the rest up as soon as possible <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure there's gotta be another fic based on this because it's the most Stucky thing I've read in my life.  
> Please let me know what you think! <3  
> Also, if you want to follow me on [tumblr](http://actualhawkguy.tumblr.com) and cry over stucky-related things, I'm game.


End file.
